Side-blog for RamWrites

Your friends would take you out shopping, to some excursion, and end with dinner. Sometimes they even planned overnight trips so everyone could squeeze every last ounce of fun from the event. The evenings would end with cake and candles and everyone drunkenly scream-singing “Happy Birthday!” before you all dug in.

Your last birthday had not been quite so grand, though you wouldn’t say Lucas didn’t do his best. He bought a cake in town, and got you some fresh notebooks that you’d asked for (completely new, from the drugstore--oh, to have a notebook without someone else’s scribbles inside it, someone else’s desperate scrawls for help-help-help!) and even some new books. 

Well, used. But new to the cabin, and that was all you wanted.

He let you watch one of the few movies he’d procured that weren’t Westerns. A romantic comedy  that you used to binge-watch on VHS during summer break from school. He was gentler, that night, in bed; more focused on your own pleasure than pounding inside you, as he sometimes did when he got overwhelmingly smitten.

It was a nice day, all things considered.

Maybe that’s why you decided to make his birthday as nice as you could. Within reason, within your severe limitations. Yet there was a nagging thought: what if he told you not to? What if he waved you away if you asked him what he wanted for his birthday?

What if, what if, what if. Maybe those little what-ifs were why some little impulsive imp in your head told you to make it a true-blue surprise. He might not make a fuss over his birthday, but he couldn’t object to you going the extra mile if he didn’t know about it.

There’d be no twisting in your gut if he waved away attempts to find out what he wanted, or sternly told you to leave his birthday alone. No sighs, no slamming of the door leading to the backyard, just a delightful smile and a pat on your head for being so sweet.

Right?

Right.

--

You have to be sneaky. But life with Lucas, by design, makes this difficult. When you stretch your arms and stand up from the sofa with the intent of going into the spare room to work on your gift, he wants to know where you’re going and why you don’t want him to follow and how long you’ll be good.

And you can’t tell him, exactly, that you’re going to work on the handmade scrapbook you’ve decided to give him. Sketches of the cabin, of the chickens, of nature outside the bedroom window. Of him, listening to his record player, a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

An almost serene expression on his face, caught before he turned and saw you staring, and stammered something about not staying up too late.

It’s really a ridiculous book. An overly cloying, sentimental thing that only a parent should enjoy (and even then, it would swiftly find itself relegated to the inside of a drawer once childhood faded); but you think Lucas won’t mind the saccharine, homemade nature of it all.

If you could just keep it a secret for two more weeks, anyway.

--

You’re hunched over the worn-out sitting chair in the spare room, adding some color to one of your birthday sketches, when a sudden heavy prickling presence crawls over your back--

Lucas clears his throat and you practically jump, colored pencil nearly stabbing the paper as you bring the book up to your chest.

“Lucas!” Your voice cracks. “I didn’t see you there. I thought--you said you’d be out with the chickens.” It was the perfect opportunity, you’d decided, to get some more work done on the book. With Lucas outside, there was less of a chance that he’d see--that he’d snoop.

So you thought.

It’s hard to make out his expression too clearly, from this distance. It had been two years now since your last eye exam, and you were sure you needed a new prescription. The thought of bringing up such a request with Lucas made you feel sick, so you didn’t. He’d just say no, wouldn’t he?

“Darlin,” he begins, voice low, almost hesitant. “What’re you doin’ in here? Thought I said you should tidy up the living room for me.”

“I did--” You stammer out the lie, stupidly, then correct yourself. “I mean--I was going to, after. I just had to do… something… and then…” The words curl up with your tongue, lying limp as you even from here, you can see his eyebrows start to furrow.

“You know I don’t like lyin’. Ain’t ladylike.” The admonition makes your stomach flip, and you claw desperately to steer everything in a more acceptable direction.

Setting your book away, sketch-side down so he doesn’t see, you stand up and fold your hands prettily together in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” you begin, voice quieter, more mousey. “I should have tidied up like you said. I just got… too eager to draw, and--” Your mind fights for what he might want you to say, and comes up with little else than contrition. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

Lucas frowns. You can see that, even from here. Can feel it, really, in the air. 

Eventually, the tension in him loosens. Enough for the knot in your stomach to unwind a little, at least.

“Mind you don’t, darlin’,” is all he says, an edge at the tip of his words, before he gestures for you to follow--no doubt to tidy up the living room like you should have done in the first place.

Working on the book will have to wait until you can get him in a better mood.

--

Two days.

There are only two days left until Lucas’ birthday, and you’re quietly thanking God (if he really exists–you’re torn on that idea, now) for that because: one, there is a small sense of pleasurable curiosity at imagining how Lucas will react to your gift and two, two being the most important of these two factors: your nerves are just about shot. 

Lucas can tell something is up. You’ve been skimping on chores, running to the spare room before bed instead of waiting in the bedroom or living room while he finished up some outdoor evening chores, throwing out excuses when he catches you and asks what you were doing and why you didn’t tell him you were going to be in here. 

Each time seems to stretch something harder between you–some awful sort of tension that you hope will melt away as soon as he gets the book. 

Dinner was quiet, but not the comfortable, homey kind that Lucas sometimes enjoys. There was a thin string plucking against your chest the entire meal, as you placed forkful after forkful of food in your mouth. Meat, vegetables, the usual style of homespun dinner he enjoys and you’ve learned to eat without question.

All that is left tonight is dessert, a slice of blueberry pie you made with a heaping spoonful of ice cream on top, the edges of it melting against your plate as you try to discern if Lucas is angry with you or merely tired from splitting wood in preparation for the upcoming fall.

“Darlin.” 

 Your spoon trembles against the edge of the ice cream, and you set it down.

“Yes?”

When you flutter your lashes and look up at him, Lucas has his face set. Firm. Unyielding. You wonder if you did something truly awful and run a checklist through your mind–you kissed him good morning without a reminder, let him dress you without getting huffy about it, did your chores, set the table, chewed with your mouth closed, ate everything on your plate–and nothing stands out too much.

It’s worse, actually, to not have something to hold yourself accountable for in the face of his apparent irritation.

“You’ve been… quiet lately,” he says, finally, slow, picking his words carefully. “Like you got a secret.”

The food in your stomach feels as hard as a rock, and a low stomach cramp makes sweat bead on the back of your neck. 

You could tell him. Confess it all, right here, right now. Yes, you’ve been quiet and sneaky and weird–because you’re working on a stupid little gift and you thought it would be a good idea because you’re a great big moron.

But… the surprise would be ruined and there’s something awful about being so close to his birthday and giving up on the idea. You can make it through two more days, can’t you? The book is technically done, anyway. You’ve only got to wrap it, and you’re sure you saw some gift wrap in the back of the closet in the spare room. 

So you, divine actress you sometimes imagine you are, swallow hard and try to look demure and apologetic and weak. (You are, in truth, in the face of Lucas and axes and freezers of meat, one of these things.)

“I’ve… I’ve been really tired lately.” You flutter your lashes. “I haven’t been falling asleep right away and… I just didn’t want to worry you. I’m sorry.” 

Sorry, sorry, sorry, a word that flies from your lips so often nowadays, and Lucas seems to eat it up as heartily as he does his meals.

His voice is still gruff, though, and he still frowns despite the slight edge of a worried coo in his voice.

“You need an earlier bedtime, then. And no more extra sugar, least ‘till you start sleepin’ better.” His hand pulls away your pie plate, ice cream uneaten, and he sets about covering the plate with plastic to set in the freezer for some undetermined later date when dessert will be returned to you.

A shame–you really wouldn’t have minded eating ice cream tonight. 

--

Normally, Lucas’ grip on you is as tight as a vice. It was something you worried about, the last few nights, as you debated on how you were going to surprise Lucas with his gift. Ideally, you’d grab it before he woke up, so you could surprise him in bed. It would be more fun that way, more like something they do in the movies.

On this morning though, the morning of his birthday, his arm is not squeezing you like a particularly well-loved teddy bear but simply sprawled loosely across your chest; so loose that you can wiggle out from underneath it.

Which you do, slowly, one eye on him, sure that he’ll wake up with every inch you get. He doesn’t. His eyes stay closed and his mouth stays slack and eventually you reach the end of the bed, thrilled at your blessings, and silently step onto the floor in triumph.

Even then, you keep an eye on him as you creep as quietly as you can–homemade floorboards do love to creak–to the bedroom door. It opens too loudly, and you cringe; but Lucas stays asleep and your stomach flips with excitement as you make it into the hallway and down to the spare room.

You almost want to hum by the time you’re rifling through the closet, but catch yourself before you make too much noise. The book is right where you left it, hidden away in the closet underneath the faded lilac of a jaggedly unfinished crochet blanket.

The wrapping paper is shiny and smooth as you clutch the gift in your hands, a soft, almost stupid little smile on your face, and you turn to–

To find Lucas standing in the doorway, a hulking form, an axe slung over his shoulder, his expression a slightly blurred mask of betrayal and rage. 

There are thoughts in your head. Oh, yes there are. Short, simple.

Oh, you think. It’s Lucas.

Oh, you think. He has an axe.

And “Oh,” is what you say as it all clicks together, as there is an imaginative flash of him bringing the axe down on your skull, as you realize that he is going to kill you and it’s going to really, really fucking hurt. Your stomach clenches and there’s something warm running down your leg and your thoughts spin, desperate to think about something nice before it all ends–

And maybe.

Maybe there is a God after all, or just sheer dumb luck, because Lucas does not spring forward and bring the axe down in the middle of your face. Instead he seems to flinch, seeing the colorful purple-and-gold wrapping paper shimmering in the morning light creeping through the window, a shiny package clutched in your trembling hands.

It’s his turn, now, for “Oh.” His mouth forms a circle over the words, savoring them like cake. “Oh, darlin.’” The snarl turns into a trembling smile, something soft and intimate and almost new to his expression. “You… for my birthday?”

You’re not dead, you realize, eyes still frozen on the axe he’s holding. You’re not dead, because you can still speak. “Yes,” you said, wheezing. “I-I wanted to surprise you. For your birthday. I thought… thought that might be okay.”

“Darlin,” he says, softly, almost unbelieving. “‘Course it’d be okay. You think I’d say no to anything you make me? To you thinking ‘bout me so sweetly?” 

You don’t answer, and his gaze finally follows your own–the axe still slung against his shoulder, the handle gripped in his palm–and he looks almost sheepish as he steps back into the hall, hefts the axe back onto the wall, and comes back in the room with an almost shy smile on his face. 

There is even, just visible in the morning light, a blush deepening the color on his cheeks.

Like he’s pleased and embarrassed and like he didn’t intend to just bash in your face with the sharp end of an axe, like he wasn’t going to grind you into hamburger for a Friday night dinner, like he wasn’t about to end your life.

He steps forward, and it takes everything inside you, every bit of strength you’ve tried to build over your captivity, to not flinch as he embraces you, present squishing against your chest.

“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known. No one’s ever made such a fuss for me on my birthday. ‘Cept you. You know that, honey?”

It is a testament to your carefully constructed layers, mud and slime hardened to protect you, that you do not let the internal scream pass your lips. You shove it down with the other reactions where it belongs--where it must be, if you want to live.

Still, you can’t speak. Not yet. You whimper something–in fear, in agreement, all mixing together in the moment. 

Lucas pets the back of your head, smiling down at you. He almost looks lost in love, in wonder. “Wouldn’t hurt you, sweetheart,” he continues, just as kindly. “Not as long as you never give me a reason to. You know that, don’tcha?” 

You nod, obedient spouse that you are, through the prickling tears that make him coo and wipe his thumb near your eyes.

He presses himself against you, and murmurs.

“If you ever left me, darlin’, why--I just couldn’t take it. Just couldn’t take it,” he repeats, holding you tighter. Kisses are pressed against the top of your head, and you feel him breathing through his nose, slower and slower. Like he’s the one who just had the fright of his life. 

Eventually, he pulls away, not before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He’s got morning breath and so do you, but at least he didn’t kill you, so there’s no point in complaining. 

If Lucas feels any particular way about the damp patch against your nightgown, about the small puddle of urine on the cabin floor, by-products of seeing your own death in the doorway, he says nothing about it.

He’s kind enough to simply put his arm around your shoulder, your own arms still clutching the gift, and begin guiding you out of the room. 

“Thank you for thinking of me, honey. Let’s just… get ourselves cleaned up and I’ll open my present. I bet it’s something real special.”

He doesn’t stop smiling as he leads you into the bathroom–he won’t stop smiling all morning, in fact. 

I made my way down the steps, careful to avoid the areas of the wood that whined under my weight. Nothing, or no one, was inside the house. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. However, that meant it came from outside. 

Still cautious, I peered through the peephole, gazing around every angle before finally looking down. The sight of something large on my porch made me jump, the light barely allowing me to make out torn, white fabric. I quickly undid the lock on the knob, leaving the chain lock until I knew for sure everything was safe. I peeked through the crack, gasping at the image displayed on my front porch.

‘He’s fucking huge?? How can a human being be that… large?’ It took me a second to fully register that there wasn’t just a large man in front of my house, but that he was unconscious. His white shirt was bloody and torn almost completely off of him. I squatted and threw one of his arms over my shoulder, the weight causing me to exhaustively exhale. His arm was almost as long as I was tall, and nearly weighed as much as I fucking did. ‘You’re one heavy-‘ my knees almost buckling under me caused me to focus on the task at hand. 

Slowly, with as much strength as possible, I dragged the abnormally large male into my house, letting him go with just the thought of getting his weight off of me. The sound of the crash and my house slightly shaking from the impact alerted me to how roughly he fell. “Sorry,” I said to him before realizing he was unconscious, and the fall probably was the least of his worries. 

I quickly ran up to get my cheap first aid kit; it’ll have to do until the morning when I could call the doctor. I also decided to grab a bowl of water and a rag before I made my way back to the living room. 

My hands gingerly tore the rest of his shirt off. My eyes widened in shock at the state of his wounds. Deep cuts, bruises in various shades, and other miscellaneous scrapes took their turns littering his body. I didn’t have nearly enough band-aids to cover everything, especially considering how large some of them wore. I didn’t even consider turning him over to check for anything on his back. 

I cleaned the wounds and additional dirt as best as possible before placing the few bandages I had on the ones that seemed the worst. 

I backed away and took the time to examine him. His chest rose steadily, his face looked as if he were peacefully sleeping. My eyes lingered on the bruise on his left cheek and gash above his right eye. 

“What did you do to make them that mad?” I chuckled to myself as my back hit the front of the couch. I realized he was too close to me when I tried to uncross my legs. The thought of pushing myself on the couch created even more exhaustion. 

Blink. 

Blink.

Blink. The morning sun was shining harshly on my face. Did I not close the blinds yesterday? 

I sat up, the blanket sliding off of me as I stretched. 

‘Wait…’ I looked at the floor. He was still there, but on his side now, one arm underneath his head as he snored. ‘Did he?…’ He couldn’t have, there’s no way someone with his injuries could even stand to be awake. 

I slid over the arm of the couch, careful to make the same movements as I did last night to avoid any creaking. 

Once in my room, my hands pawed over my bed eagerly, searching for my phone. I wasted no time in dialing the nearest traveling doctor; there was no way I could carry him out to my car, and I didn’t believe they even made ambulances that big. I relayed the information of the extent of the man’s injuries to the secretary on the phone after giving her my address. 

I made my way back downstairs to check on the stranger on my living room floor. With how hurt he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he slept all d-

“Ah, you’re awake,” a deep voice stopped me in my tracks. 

He was sitting up with his legs crossed, both of his arms stretched behind his back while he yawned. He started pushing himself up to stand. 

“W-wait!” I ran over to him to stop him, wondering if he hit his head so hard that he couldn’t feel anything. However, when I stopped in front of him I noticed that the bruise was gone, the gash almost completely healed too. My eyes trailed down his chest and abdomen; it was the same story, all minor injuries were gone while the bigger ones were well on their way of being healed. 

“Oh, thanks for the bandages, hope you don’t mind that I took them off though,” his voice was gruff and deep with the reminiscence of sleep. He slid on a new white shirt. Where did he get that? 

I just stared at him with shock. He was acting as just a couple of hours ago he wasn’t knocked out cold on my front doorstep. And how did everything heal? 

“What am I going to tell the doctor?” I thought out loud. 

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow before yawning again. “Doctor?”

My head snapped back up so I could meet his eyes, “Well last night you were out cold and you had so many wounds all over,” I began to ramble, “so I brought you in and patched you up as best as I could. I couldn’t do the best work, but I used what I had. Obviously I had the intention of calling a doctor first thing in the morning, that was the only thing on my mind when I woke up. I mean, I thought you were dying or something. Anyone else-“

He let out a loud laugh, stopping me dead in my speech. “I forgot how worrisome regular folk are,” he let out another chuckle. Regular people? I guess I couldn’t argue with him on that; hell, I’m still not convinced he’s fully human. “You should probably call off that doctor, don’t wanna waste his time.”

“No, you need to get checked at the very least,” I protested, “you took multiple blows to the head and were out for hours.” 

His figure towered over me, shadowing me from the sun. The gash on his head was even smaller now, had it been healing the whole time we were talking? “If it makes you feel better, then sure,” his voice was surprisingly more gentle than his appearance. “But I ain’t lettin’ a doctor poke and prod me all day. He’s checkin’ my head and that’s it,” he said playfully.

I nodded in agreement. “Just a small checkup is all I’m asking for.” I gave him a small smile, and he returned it with a big grin. His canines were sharp as hell…

Even with the man, whose name is Uvogin, sitting down on the couch, the doctor still had to pull up a chair to get a proper look at him. I cringed at every creak my poor couch made under the massive man’s weight, my jaw tightened even more when I caught a glimpse at the way it bent at the bottom. The thought of having to buy new furniture because of a bear-like stranger was enough to make tears begin to prick at my eyes.

“Everything looks… normal,” the doctor spoke, breaking me out of my couch trance, “his response times are perfectly fine, everything seems to be working correctly, and his wounds don’t seem in nearly as bad of shape as I heard. I think he’ll be alright Mrs…” 

“Miss,” I simply corrected as I showed him to the door, “thank you so much doctor for taking a look at him.” I closed the door and stood there for a minute with my forehead pressed against the door. 

“Told ya,” the gruff voice made me jump. For a big guy, he was quiet when he wanted to be. 

“You must be hungry,” I exclaimed while looking at the clock by the kitchen entrance, “it’s already well past one!” I squeezed my way around him and walked towards the kitchen. “I have uh, eggs, meat….” I felt silly listing everything in my fridge, “What are you in the mood for?” I finally asked. 

When I looked over the door of the fridge to the entryway where he was first standing, I was met with empty space. “Huh?..” 

“You don’t got a lot…” My eyes widened as I felt his breath on the back of my neck. Why was he so close? It suddenly sunk in that I just have some stranger in my house… hovering over me. 

Wait… I don’t have a lot? “I just stocked my fridge yesterday, but if you don’t see anything, we can always order something?” ‘No, he should be leaving, if he wants food then he can get it himself,’ the thought popped up.  

Before I could debate my hospitality, his breath brushed against my ear, “You payin’?” A sense of dread hit my stomach, and my wallet. 

After apologizing to the third delivery guy for the egregious amount of food, I shut the door. I slid my back down and prepared to walk into my living room-turned-buffet. 

My eyes widened as I walked into the scene; there were literal piles of takeout boxes lined around my coffee table as well on the floor next to it. And he was already eating?! He couldn’t even wait for me to sit down? 

“Are you gonna eat?” His mouth was full while he asked the question. 

Exhale. I sat down on the other side of the couch, once again tensing at the sound of my poor furniture earnestly trying to keep us both up. ‘I should write a review for this brand,’ the thought made me chuckle a little. 

He finished it. He finished it all. He even finished my fucking leftovers. I sat there with my back against the couch as he rubbed his stomach lazily beside me, the mess of takeout packages littered around my living space. The thought of cleaning up after he left nearly brought me to tears once again. 

The main issue was, he wasn’t making any moves to go. “So…” I began, “where are you from?” My question earned me a raised eyebrow from the man as he stared at me.

“Why do you care?” Okay, rude.

“Simply trying to make conversation. I mean, you are kind of a stranger just… in my house.” This seemed to humor him.

“Alright alright, I’m from Meteor City,” my eyes widened in surprise. I’ve heard stories about the place, but I’ve never met someone from there. It’s also quite a distance from here. 

“What brings you so far from home?” And who is beating you so badly you landed on my porch? 

His brow furrowed like he was figuring out what to say, “Just passing through.” Okay, now I’m more curious.

“Any destination?” I pulled my legs onto the couch, leaning forward to try and meet his avoidant gaze.

He scratched the back of his neck, “Damn you ask a lot of questions. No, I’m just roamin’.” 

When I realized he wouldn’t meet my eyes, I began to look past him, outside of the window. The sun was starting to set, painting the skies various blues and oranges. I would’ve taken in its beauty if it weren’t serving as a reminder that Uvogin is still in my house. 

We sat in silence for a few additional minutes as I pondered on how to ask him to leave. ‘He could stay one more night,’ was a possibility, ‘but think of all the money he’ll eat and break,’ another possibility. 

Before I could really make a decision, Uvogin was already spreading himself out on the couch, feet pushing off three piles of takeout containers onto the floor. He yawned obnoxiously loud, letting me know I should stop with the questions. 

But the question of where he was gonna sleep pushed against my lips. 

The image of him breaking the twin bed in the guest bedroom sent shivers down my spine, and I wanted to give my couch a break but I couldn’t just ask him to sleep on the floor. The image of when I first woke up replayed in my head, how peaceful he seemed curled up on my rug. 

‘Like a puppy,’ I tried to force down the smile that played on my lips. 

“Mr. Uvogin,” I turned to look at him. My face flattened when I saw his mouth wide open and his eyes shut, drool already beginning to drop from his lips. 

A defeated sigh filled the air before the creaking of the couch followed it. It barely lifted after I stood up. My arms felt heavy as I pried myself away from the scene.

Shower and then bed. I didn’t realize how heavy my muscles were until I sprawled out all of my limbs across my bed. My bed was quite large, but I don’t think it could even hold Uvogin- 

‘Who cares if a stranger can fit in my bed????’ I rolled around my bed despite having no energy, hoping that tiring myself out more would help my mind focus on something else.

I rolled around several times before finally settling into my blankets. The rising and falling of my chest slowed as I began to drift into sleep. 

I woke up to my room rocking back and forth and my shoulder jolting around. “W-what?” The rocking stopped and my eyes landed on a blurry figure. As the room finally began to steady and my vision focused, I recognized Uvogin.

”You’re finally awake,” he grunted, scratching the top of his head, “your room is kinda nice; lots of little trinkets.” He looked around nervously, causing me to jump up.

“You haven’t broken an-“

“No no, nothing’s broken, everything’s fine,” he eased. “Where’s the menu for that take-out place? Unless you’re plannin’ to cook again?” My eyes widened at the audacity. He’s still here in my home and he’s got the guts to ask me for food? I studied his face for a moment, noticing that there wasn’t even a scar above his right eye. 

I huffed and threw my legs over the edge of my bed, sliding my feet onto the floor. “I’ll cook something, but it probably won’t be enough to satisfy you until you leave.” My eyes met him at the last two words. 

His eyes briefly widened before he slowly broke out a smirk, his eyes lowering, “I’m sure you’ll find some way to solve that.” 

My face began to grow hot, the sudden feeling of my chest tightening caused my body to turn away. I tried to hide my uneven breathing on my way to the kitchen, trying to stay a couple steps ahead of Uvogin. ‘He didn’t mean anything other than he’s going to eat all the shit in my fridge.’ 

My arms were sore and I nearly fainted after placing the last plate on my kitchen table. There were 2 leftover stews on the table, 9 cups of rice on the table, around 30 eggs, and a stack of at least 26 pancakes. 

By the time I sat down at the table and had a sufficient amount of water, Uvogin was already finishing his third bowl of stew and rice. ‘Greedy bastard,’ I cursed him in my head, my eyes burning into him. If he was concerned about my gaze, he didn’t show it. He continued almost mindlessly shoveling food into his mouth. Did he even chew? 

I had finished half a pancake and a few spoonfuls of scrambled eggs before the sight of the freeloader completely ruined my appetite. 

The deep sigh from Uvogin caused me to start rapidly blinking in surprise, “You were right, but it should be enough for the start of the day.” 

I felt my right eye start to twitch, my hands grasping on to the table as I fought back the outburst threatening to spill out. 

“Huh? What’s wrong with you?” 

“Are you…”

“Hm?” My head shot up and my eyes met Uvogin’s.

“Are you fucking serious?” My words started coming out faster than I could think, “You wake up in someone else’s fucking home, unconscious and beaten up, then you offer them no explanation to what happen. Okay, that’s fine. But then you stay the whole first day despite being perfectly fine, and hell, you didn’t even thank me for the meal you had yesterday, you just took your ass right to sleep on my couch!” 

“Whoa what’s-“

“Then to have the fucking audacity to wake me up in my bed, without even knocking first, by SHAKING me? To ask me to either cook or order you food? Are you a goddamn toddler? Both your legs and mouth work just fine, you could’ve mosied your ass right outta here and got your fill somewhere else. And oh my god the fucking nerve to complain that there wasn’t enough food to satisfy you? You’re a fucking unbelievable, self centered, freeloading lee-“

The bottom of Uvogin’s hand covered my mouth. My breath hitched as I felt his fingers reach the back of my head; his hand was huge. And the speed of which he crossed the room, I didn’t even register him leaving his seat. 

My body began to tremble. Suddenly, I no longer wanted to meet Uvogin’s gaze. 

I felt his warm breath brush against the top of my head as he let out a low exhale, I trembled harder in response. 

“You’re so tiny… no wonder you couldn’t bottle your feelings up for so long,” he was teasing me. If I wasn’t so scared at the sheer size of this man and his sudden control over me, I could’ve been mad at how he wasn’t taking me seriously. “Look at me.” My eyes didn’t move, my vision unfocused. “Look at me,” his tone was more stern. 

My eyes slowly moved to meet his. His eyelids were low and he didn’t have a tint of animosity on his face, but the small grin he had was unnerving; he knew he was truly in control right now. 

“Good girl. Now, I’m gonna remove my hand from your mouth, and I don’t wanna hear anything unless I speak to you, understood?” I slowly nodded my head yes in compliance. 

His hand slowly backed away from my lips and I let out a shaky breath. “You’re so good at following instructions,” the condescending tone in his voice filled my ears. 

“I think your bed is much better suited for me, I’ll sleep there tonight,” Uvogin stated after a long drawn out silence. It had been a couple hours since we last spoke. After the shaky encounter at breakfast, I simply washed the dishes and continued to sit on the opposite end of the couch from him in silence. My eyes stared at the TV blankly, not registering what show was currently on while my mind replayed the scenario. 

“M-my bed?” I hated how meek my voice sounded in my own home. He invaded my living room, fridge, and now my room? 

“Mhm, it’s big enough. Besides, I can’t sleep on the floor all the time,” he chuckled as if it was truly funny. 

‘All the time…’ as if he was staying… 

My heart began thumping in my chest at the thought of Uvogin staying for another week, then weeks, then months… Surely he wouldn’t stay for that long though, he’s a drifter who’s place of origin is days travel away. Someone like him wouldn’t find a place like this suitable for settling anyway. It’s too quiet, and I’ve never even heard of people arguing with malicious intent around here before. A brute like Uvogin would get bored soon. 

“Uvogin… I have work tomorrow,” I drew out each word, frightened that something would be seen as combative and gain a negative response. “I don’t think you can stay here.”

He laughed at my attempt to get him to leave, “I’m not a pet you have to supervise, I’ll be fine on my own.” 

‘Why can’t you just leave?’ I wanted to get down on my knees and break down, beg him to go somewhere else. “Well, I’ll have to go to the grocery store tomorrow as well, so I’ll be gone all day. Besides, you’ve already said I didn’t have enough to feed you.” 

“So I’ll go with you. I can stop by your job when you’re done and we can pick up the stuff I like.” It’s like he just couldn’t hear the parts where I was asking him to leave. 

I couldn’t imagine Uvogin realistically walking through a store, pushing a cart and having me grab what he was interested in. The image could’ve earned a laugh from me yesterday. 

I didn’t say much else until it grew late. I tried putting off going to sleep as much as possible, my eyes darted from the clock to Uvogin and back again. It was now 11:24, the rhythmic ticking slowly lulling me to sleep. I tried fighting it, I didn’t want to allow Uvogin in my room, I wanted to at least put up some kind of resistance.

Eventually my eyes blinked one last time. 

The soft buzzing of my phone under my pillow pulled me out of the blank void of sleep. My eyes lazily opened as I let out a stretch, my hands gently pushing against Uvogin’s chest. I closed my eyes once again, being invited back to sleep at the knowledge that this was one of three alarms. 

‘Uvogin’s chest?’ My eyes bolted open and I was confronted by Uvogin’s tan skin filling my vision, the hair on his body brushed against my face. My whole body tensed. I stayed still for what felt like hours as I listened to the surprisingly soft snores from the giant man. At one point, he mumbled something in his sleep before tightening his arms around me, pulling me more into his chest.

My alarm buzzed once again under my pillow, but this time I had to use a little more force to pull away from Uvogin to turn it off. I paused at the lack of snoring before my head slowly turned to face him. 

His eyes were lazily gazing at me, blinking slowly as if he were fighting off the threat of more sleep. “Is someone calling you?” His voice was low and groggy, the words almost slurred. 

I slowly shook my head no, “It’s my alarm. I have to start getting ready for work.” I slowly began pushing my body away from him, sitting up. It felt like a weight was taken off my chest as his hands loosened their grip. 

“Can’t you miss it?” Why was he begging me to stay home? 

“If I miss work, how am I gonna afford these huge grocery trips?” I retorted before my mind could catch up. I don’t need to afford huge grocery trips in the first place. He’s not staying.

Uvogin chuckled as the hand resting on my hip started moving back and forth, “Just take the stuff you want.” 

“Like… steal?” I now turned my head back towards him with a confused look, “You’re wanting me to steal copious amounts of food from a grocery store?” 

Uvogin simply nodded and shrugged his shoulders before he made a lazy effort to sit up. My bed creaked, causing me to cringe; the sound was much less abrasive than my poor couch though. 

I sighed before shaking my head, “Uvogin, unlike you I live here, I like living here. If I stole something, I’d be banned from the store and arrested. I’m not some drifter unable to settle in one place. I’m here, I’m settled, I’m not risking everything for you to get a couple hours of satisfaction.” My tone was much softer than yesterday, and I tried to choose my words more carefully this time. 

Uvogin was scratching the side of his head now in obvious annoyance, “I got it, I got it. You don’t need to keep going on these long rants.” 

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the lack of aggression that my rant earned; I figured the fact that he was sleepy along with my gentle tone played hugely. 

My phone buzzed once again. I let out a breath before sliding completely out of Uvogin’s grip and off the bed. I got dressed in the bathroom, locking the door. I mentally prepared myself for another shift, this time there was a positive besides money; I got away from Uvogin. 

I left the house without a word; Uvogin was already back asleep by the time I got out of the bathroom so I was already feeling lighter by the lack of interaction. 

Within two hours of my shift, I felt my phone buzz. I checked it on my lunch break, finding three additional notifications.

>You didn’t say what time you got off.

>Can you send me the number to that restaurant? 

>Your neighbors are fucking annoying, do they not have jobs?

>Can’t you respond?

The contact was already labeled ‘Uvogin’. When did he get into my phone? 

I furiously texted responses to each question. 

>7:30. There’s a flier on the fridge. The ones on my left work nights and the ones on my right have an unemployed son. I have a job to do. 

My head fell between my arms. I didn’t even have enough to pack my lunch today, my mood grew more sour by the minute. 

Seeing my coworkers duck and whisper as they exited the building let me know Uvogin was there before my eyes even landed on him. 

“Hey,” he held up a hand but didn’t wave. 

I simply nodded in acknowledgment while walking to my car. Uvogin followed close behind until I reached the driver’s door. He made his way to the passenger side but blinked in confusion at me from atop the roof. 

I slid into the car without acknowledging him further. My eyes widened as it leaned into Uvogin’s weight as he sat in. The car gave a little shake at almost every movement he made. I groaned knowing that my gas was gonna burn even faster, and who knows what other problems this will bring. 

I drove to the store, simply nodding or giving Uvogin short answers as he pointed out the window, asking questions about this or that, have I been here or there. 

Never had I felt so watched in my life as I had when walking with Uvogin. From the parking lot through ever isle, there was at least one pair of eyes that trailed our movements. I wanted to shrink and throw myself in the cart under the mountain of food that Uvogin was freely picking. He looked at me in surprise when I told him he had 10 final items. 

He wordlessly loaded the groceries into the car, out of the car, and into the house. I was finally grateful for him; it was finally only one trip from the car to the house. I began prepping dinner as the man started putting things away, asking where this, this, and this went, or if this had to go in the fridge. 

By the time dinner was done, I couldn’t bring myself to eat more than half of my plate, pure exhaustion taking over my body. I felt Uvogin’s eyes on me before I heard the clinking of dishes as he walked around the table, then their clatter as he threw them into the sink. My eyes were fighting to stay open. 

Uvogin pushed his hands under my armpits before hoisting me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as far as they could go. My head rested on his shoulder. I wanted to protest, I wanted to tell him to put me down, but I was far too tired. 

Over the next three weeks I began to develop a routine with Uvogin; wake up after the second alarm and try to find my phone before it wakes up Uvogin, remind Uvogin why I work, go to work, come home to see he’s got most of dinner already cooked before helping him finish, shower, and watch TV before Uvogin carries me to bed. It was almost like he wasn’t some stranger who crashed in here, but instead a partner of multiple years. 

My body began to relax over Uvogin as I felt the beginning of sleep, my limbs sprawled over top of him while we laid on the couch. Over the last week, Uvogin had moved past just cuddling me while I slept; he would hover over me with his hands on my shoulders while I cooked or washed dishes, he would pull me into his lap whenever we were sitting in the same room, or he would pull me over top of him when he wanted to lay down on the couch like now.

An almost purring noise coming from under me is what pulled me out of the entrance of slumber. Then I felt something hard rubbing between my legs. 

‘There’s no way-‘ a soft grunt before Uvogin’s hips bucked into me ever so slightly confirmed my suspension. 

“U-Uvogin!” I rose up as much as I could under his hand, his grip on my waist wasn’t tight but it didn’t need to be, he was strong even when he wasn’t trying.

“Ah shit-“ he let out a low groan, “you’re awake.” I wiggled more under his grip now. He pushed his hand down on my lower back, pushing out a soft yelp from me. 

“What are… what are you doing?” My chest felt tight as my stomach twisted into knots.

He pushed harder into my crotch, a shiver traveled up my spine. My body began to tremble, “I thought- ah, I thought you were sleeping already.” His breath brushed against my ear and I felt my body beginning to shake. 

“Uvogin s-stop. What are you talking about?” 

“Stop squirming so damn much,” his breath was picking up as his movements became harsher. One of his hands toyed with the waist of my pants. “I usually wait, mmm, until you’re out cold. You’re usually so receptive too, your little hips move back and forth like you couldn’t wait for me to touch you,” he let out a low chuckle before his hand dipped into my underwear to fondle my ass. 

His cock was rigid under my body, threatening to break through the fabric of both of our shorts. His hand was tough against my ass, the squeezing nearly bringing tears to my eyes. “Please… p-please be gentler!” I cried out. Uvogin grinned widely and I can already tell that it was because I didn’t ask him to stop. 

My lips wouldn’t form the words ‘stop’ or ‘no’. The only sounds that came out of my mouth were moans or whimpers, which he took as an invitation to go further. His hand pushed further into my panties, reaching around to my clit. I screwed my eyes shut and buried my face deep into his chest.

His chest bounced up and down as he let out a loud laugh, “So wet for me, I knew that whole ‘I hate you’ act was a farce.” I could only shake my head back and forth to show my disagreement, still not being able to face him. “Oh?” I felt his finger tips brush against my clit lightly, causing my hips to buck against his hand while pressing further down on his cock. “Your body seems to disagree.” I could see the shit eating grin he definitely had in the darkness of my closed eyes.

“Might as well go all the way tonight since you know now.” Before I could even question what he meant, I was flipped onto my back, his large frame caging me on the couch. He did in fact have a shit eating grin planted on his lips. He pulled my shirt off of my body, then snapped off my bra; he whistled before his lips latched onto one of my nipples. 

My back arched, pushing my breast further towards him. I felt his hands pushing down my pants and my underwear before he threw them across the room. My thighs pressed closely together at the sudden cool breeze. 

He chuckled, “You’ve already grown comfortable with me, don’t pretend to be shy now,” he spoke like we had had sex a thousand times before. With little effort, he pushed my legs apart with one hand. 

First he took over my living room, my kitchen, my room and bed, and now Uvogin feels entitled enough to take over my body. I should be angry, the tightness in my stomach should be built from anger, not from the pleasure from his tongue playing with my nipples as his finger traced circles over my clit. 

My heart raced as his fingers rubbed suddenly faster. I looked down to see Uvogin grinding into the couch, his free hand palming his rock hard erection through his shorts. My face grew warmer in the shame of being the only one naked.

The shame didn’t last for long as my mind began growing quiet save for the thoughts of reaching my orgasm. “U-Uvogin, Uvogin I’m gonna,” I couldn’t think of a complete sentence as Uvogin’s fingers worked harder, his mouth sucking more aggressively on my hard nipples. The licking, sucking, and the biting made my head swirl, mixing light pain with intense pleasure. 

Without much warning I came undone under Uvogin. My fingers wrapped tuffs of his hair and pulled, his head didn’t budge an inch. He wouldn’t stop, his fingers only slightly slowed anc his tongue only lightly brushing over my nipples as I rode out my orgasm on his hand. 

“T-too much,” I meekly whimpered as I quickly entered overstim terrority. Uvogin just chuckled, his fingers steadily slowed down, but they didn’t stop as he made eye contact. 

“You’re pretty when the only shit coming out of your mouth is the sound of wanting me.” I snapped my half lidded eyes at him, glaring to let him know I disapproved despite the moans slipping through my lips.

He pushed himself up a little, putting one hand above my head on the couch’s arm. The length of his cock pressed against my outer labia; I shuddered under the weight of it. There was no way it was gonna fit. As if he read my mind, “I’ll take it as slow as I can, but it will fit,” he growled lowly before rocking his hips back and forth. 

I began to clench around nothing, whining quietly in anticipation. Uvogin’s sudden call to patience created a painful ache in my core; he was the one that couldn’t wait until I was truly asleep before fondling my ass, but now he decided to put years of discipline to use to stop himself from fucking me? 

My jaw clenched, desperate to try to hold back any sounds in order to draw out his egotistical side, the side that needed me to let all the neighbors know how good he was making me feel. How the freeloading bastard was now laying claim to my body. 

I shivered at the thought, the fact that the tip of his cock was now pressing at my opening was not helping me keep still nor quiet. If Uvogin was in a more stable mind, he probably would’ve held out longer, recognizing my attempts to frustrate him. He wasn’t in a more stable mind though. The annoyance from my silent treatment was evident on his face. I couldn’t refrain from smiling a little at my small victory.

Uvogin’s own grin wiped my smile away. I sharply inhaled, grasping desperately onto the couch’s cushions as the burly man began pressing the tip of his cock into me. His movements were slow, but not slow enough for me to get used to the current length before he pressed in further. 

He bottomed out, stilling as his cock twitched. I tried to steady my breathing, tried to refocus my eyes, tried to stop my whimpering and whines at the sensation of his entire dick deep inside me, stretching me open. I heard his own breath hitch, “Fuck fuck fuck, relax!” he begged; it sounded like the wood in the couch arm was crushing. 

It felt like hours before I could even breathe relatively normal, much less relax my cunt. Uvogin’s fingers rubbed lazily on my clit in an attempt to aid my issue. “It all fits,” he once cooed during the adjustment. 

Uvogin took my calmer breathing as a sign to start moving. His hips slowly pulled backwards, my cunt clenched after it, desperate to refill the now empty inches inside of me. The desperation didn’t last long, he had only pulled out half way before the length of him pushed back in. He repeated this motion; half out, all in, half out, all in, antagonistically slow. 

“F-faster please,” I begged, my mind couldn’t completely comprehend what I was requesting. 

Uvogin’s lips cracked into a snarky grin before his hips snapped into me. I felt like I was gonna break at any second, his sudden increase in speed gave me no time to think. It wasn’t just his cock that sped up, his fingers hungrily went to work on my clit. My mind felt numb as my body rocked up and down while my moans and cries for Uvogin drowned out the aggressive creaking of the couch. 

My arms wrapped tightly around Uvogin’s neck, he humored me and came closer as if I could actually pull him. His forehead pressed against mine with a gentleness I couldn’t imagine he had, my name left his lips with a sense of urgency, like at any moment I could break out of his grip. 

My knees pressed against Uvogin’s hips in an unneeded effort to keep him inside of me. I felt every muscle in my body tighten as I clamped down on his cock, “U-Uvogin,” I choked out, “cum.. soon…” My mind could barely come together enough to form a string of words.. 

Uvogin’s thrusts were steady and harsh. “Cum, cum for me while I take you.” The words practically set fire to my pelvis as I shook under him, crying out the man’s name as I finally broke, my climax coating his cock.

His hips snapped more eratically, “Ah, fucking-, fuck!” His voice was so loud, I’m surprised the neighbors weren’t banging on my door already. I mewled at the unstopping feeling of his skin slapping against mine, his cock bashing my body, overwhelming my pussy. 

I pawed helplessly at his chest, attempting to get away before the pain of overstimulation grew. The hand not gripping the couch was now pressed onto my stomach to keep me in place, also pushing down harder every time his cock pushed in. I couldn’t form words at this point, couldn’t beg him to stop or at least slow down. 

He was pushing down more aggressively now, I felt his muscles tense. “Close, so fucking close to claiming you, finally claiming you,” his voice was low and guttural. My eyes rolled back, the words made me waver in excitement, in that moment I could’ve begged him for it. I didn’t want anything more than for him to fill me completely.

I whined loudly as I felt a second orgasm approaching. Drool was rolling down the side of my cheek, I was being fucked dumb. Usually calm and level headed, all it took was a couple thrusts from a guy who refused to leave to break me. 

The thought drove me over the edge, I couldn’t hold back. Uvogin groaned as I came once again around his cock without warning. I felt limp for only a moment as my body tensed at the merciless thrusting. 

This time, his body slammed against me roughly, causing me to cry out. His cock twitched eagerly as the length of his movements shortened.

Without warning, he pulled out one last time before burying his cock as deep as it could go, spilling his own orgasm out with a loud and deep groan. 

I laid there, regulating my breath and regaining my thoughts as I felt his cum slowly leaking down my ass. My eyes blinked a couple of times, threatening to stay shut before I pushed them back open. My body finally lay limp, not a single muscle seemed to contain enough energy to perform.

It took a couple seconds for me to realize that Uvogin was stroking my head, that I was back on top of him in the same position as before we started all of this. My eyelids won the fight and finally shut as the calm rhythm of Uvogin’s heart lulled me to sleep.